


Take the Bullet

by JeromeSankara



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - President, Cheating Lori Grimes, Coming Out, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Smut, Elections, Gay Sex, Homophobia, Lori Grimes Being an Asshole, M/M, Past Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Past Marine, Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Daryl Dixon, Rickyl Writers' Group, Secret Relationship, Secret Service - Freeform, Shane Being an Asshole, Taking a bullet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: Daryl Dixon is the chief of the United States Secret Service. His job is to ensure that the President is to be in complete safety at all times. He will have to protect him from assassinations, assaults, and the forbidden relationship between himself and President Rick Grimes.As elections are right around the corner, their secrets are that much closer to being exposed. If this forbidden love was revealed, it would lead Rick Grimes to ruins, but sometimes there are more important things than a title.





	1. Hushed Touches

"I am proud to say that with this new policy in place, it will ensure that we can continue with our efforts to maintain peace within the Middle East. We will not punish those who have done nothing wrong, and we will continue to keep America the way it has always been - a harbor for those who dream for freedom."

Bulbs flashed just moments after his words, practically blinding the man who stood at the podium. His pupils visibly shrank at the flashes, and his body stiffened in an attempt to not flinch away from the light. Voices were already booming from the audience below, hands being raised frantically and microphones held up in a vague attempt to catch any additional words, but there would be no more.

"Thank you," was the ending words with the trademark crooked smile, his chest still puffed in pride and confidence that practically oozed out of his body. The questions became louder as a result as they attempted to catch his attention, but they were quietly ignored.

The man turned on his heels before turning away from the microphone and podium, and the black-suited men swooped in behind him. They blocked out the sight of their leader with broad shoulders and tall figures, and another approached the podium to dismiss the media. It was smooth and routine, having been done near countless times.

Blue eyes hidden beneath sunglasses flicked across the crowd as he stepped back towards the double doors that the man had disappeared inside, watching for any sign of suspicious movement. It was during this time that it was the most dangerous - when they would let their guard down and believe that there would be no danger.

Large hands reached up to the blue tie, tightening it to the point of discomfort. Already he could feel his head spinning with constant movement, watching hands, eyes, everything. There was quiet chatter being fed through the earpiece, slowly locking down the perimeter again. Men were already beginningt to filter out the reporters, leading them towards exits that had no other path but out.

It was all going smoothly... At least on the surface. No one else needed to know about the knives that had been attempted to be smuggled inside, the silencer with one man and a handgun in the other...

If only that wasn't a normal occurance at this point.

_"Alpha has been secured."_

"10-4."

His voice rasped, just slightly strained. The season had only just begun and they were close to being overwhelmed with the growing responsibility. Threats with near groundless basis are being investigated, every inch of land had been swept three, four times, and dogs lined the perimeter. It was that much more things that could go wrong and leave a gaping hole in their security, and they may not know it until it was too late...

The man reached out and caught the heavy oak doors before they could fully close shut, sliding himself on the other side to follow his men. Only once he had securely locked the doors and had two men stationed on both sides did he finally allow a breath of relief.

"10-24, 10-59 in progress. North entrance 10-106."

"You know you gotta still teach me those codes."

His eyes lifted from the oak and turned to see the one who had addressed him, even with a slight smirk beginning to cross his face. Already his body was beginning to change. His stiff shoulders dropped, hand releasing the earpiece and the small microphone linked just beside his lips. He reached up and tugged on the tie once more, this time loosening the knot. He was now allowed to breathe again, even when he knew he was never truly off duty.

"Sorry, sir, you know I can't," he chuckled, soon beginning to close the distance between the two men. His other security was standing mere feet away, hands behind their backs, their eyes also hidden beneath the tinted glasses. It was a simple way to avoid others seeing where their attention laid, though he already could guess that their gazes were elsewhere. They may use the excuse that they were watching entrances and exits to the room, but he already knew that wasn't the case.

It was just another way to avoid the secret that was hidden beneath their security.

By the time he stood before the man in the pale gray suit, his hands were already reaching up and slipping off the glasses from his guard. "Even after all this time, you still insist on the 'sirs' and titles. I thought we were past that." Baby blue eyes were now staring back into his own uncovered ones, nearly shadowed by dark curls. His head tilted just slightly to the side, further accenting the lopsided grin.

He could go into detail again that they could take no chances, even at this point. That if anyone from the outside was to find out that it may devistate their chances at the booth. But he already knew that Rick didn't care for details. He never did.

All he cared about was that Daryl was to remain at his side.

Fingers lingered on the left side of his head, the other hand placing the tinted glasses into his own breast pocket. Even now, he always did this, and even still, the touch always led to little sparks running up his spine.

They traced into the thick hair that he had pulled back into a ponytail, having been scolded numerous times to get the hair out of his eyes because they obscured Rick's view. He let his fingers thread through the locks, 'accidentally' tugging a few strands free from the band and letting them frame his face.

Then then fingers touched the thick grooves that had been memorized endlessly, able to rest a finger within the imprint that grazed his temple. He still remembered feeling the hot blood that dripped down his face, of the pain that had nearly made him freeze. It still ached at the memory, but the touch soothed it to a slight whimper.

Daryl watched as his leader's eyes studied the mark, a constant reminder of his allegiance. The grin had faded for a moment as it always has, a dark cloud of worry fogging the bright blue eyes. His larger hand reached out and touched his wrist, beginning to move his fingers away.

"You know I would do it again," he chuckled, finally allowing a smirk to cross his face.

"I know," his leader sighed, finally allowing his hand to fall to his side. "That's what worries me," he added, unearthing the unending fear that plagued the both of them.

Daryl was the human shield between the world and President Grimes. He would lay down his life within a moment, something he had grown close to doing multiple times.

Any words he was about to give to comfort his leader had already been put on hold as chatter echoed in his ear again. He gave a grunt of annoyance as he released the wrist, pressing his hand against his ear to hear it clearer. "10-9," he muttered into the microphone, leaning away to ensure that Rick's voice would not be caught upon the microphone.

_"10-14 south entrance, shell-less turtle."_

For fuck's sake...

"10-4," he grunted in response, already dreading what he was about to have to do. Shell-less turtle was code for someone deciding that clothing was overrated. It was a strange code that happened more often than Daryl wished to acknowledge, and judging by the frown on Rick's face, he also seemed to understand the aggitation.

"...You need to go," Rick murmured, neither a question nor a demand, just a bland statement of the obvious. The amount of disappointment on their leader's face was as close to adorable as Daryl could imagine the president of their nation to be. The corner of Daryl's lips twitched to the beginning of a smile, but stopped short. There were still too many eyes.

"I'll be back," he soothed, though forced himself a step back. The two men in suits were stepping up to their leader now, though maintaining a correct distance that Daryl easily surpassed. They would be leading Rick back to the Oval Office, where he will be pouring across bills and documents that will help shape the nation he ruled.

It was a meek feeling, knowing that he would always be in the presence of the man who held such power, and made the feeling grow ten fold when he realized that Daryl was the only one that man truly trusted.

Rick only gave a slight dip of the head that could have been a nod, yet their eyes didn't break the connection. Not even as he reached into his breast pocket and slipped out the shades, carefully sliding them back onto his security chief's face. "Be safe," was the soft whisper that was passed, and the fingers swept across the scar again.

Daryl only needed to nod before the chatter came to his ear again, causing him to flinch. He couldn't afford to waste time, not with his line of work. It was then that he forced the connection to break between their gazes, turning away and starting the lone steps towards the southern part of the White House property.

They would meet again within hours, and with any luck, it would be alone. His leader would be in intense need of relaxation from a long day, and Daryl couldn't help but hope that he had just the means of accomplishing such a feat.

Just another day as the guard of the President of the United States, Rick Grimes.


	2. A Stolen Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the stars align, and they can sneak away. But it's never long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ......OMG I LOVE ALL OF YOU WHO LOVE THIS AND CAN DEAL WITH MY PATHETIC LACK OF WRITING.
> 
> I was super stuck on the smut. I literally couldn't force more than a couple words a session, and it took about eight hours for me to get the rest of this chapter done.
> 
> But it's going to get better because there's juicy back story coming up. 
> 
> Again, thank you all <3

It was thankful that Rick had decided to wear his single-breasted suit that day. Otherwise he may have found himself losing yet another piece of expensive clothing to rabid hands and teeth. All he lost tonight was a button, snapped off when impatience had gotten the best of his partner.

For a man that relied on his steel nerves and tight concentration, he actually became rather sloppy when it came to their unholy desires.

"Slow down, tiger," was the rasping chuckle that was nearly covered up by the sound of the suit blazer hitting the ground. The button rolled across the carpet, spun once, then relented to gravity. All he received in exchange for his words was a growl that brought chills up his spine.

"Been waiting to do this all fuckin' week. Ain't gonna stop for your prissy suits," the growl rumbled, blown pupils nearly engulfing the blues that glowed in the darkness. There may have been the wish for a response, but the large hand that had grabbed Rick by his thick curls soon squelched the chances as their lips were brought together again.

With a hearty plummet, Rick found himself nearly pinned down to the expansive bed, trapped by the beast with devilish hands slipping beneath his layers of clothing. Barely able to hold himself from grinning into the kiss, he glanced from the corner of his eyes to the trail of black clothing that led up to the bed.

If there was a record for the shortest time taken to undress with only one hand, he was sure that Daryl had set the record once more.

The hand gripped harder, as if sensing the distraction, and gave a quick tug. Rick had no choice but to let out a faint hiss of pain, forcing their lips to separate. It was no matter, though, because Daryl was already feverishly pressing kisses to his jaw, then down the side of his neck, and he could have _sworn_  that Daryl was merely tasting him to devour later.

He caught the sound of fabric tearing and winced, knowing that Daryl had once again found that buttons were meaningless. Not wanting another episode of throwing away clothes once again ripped to shreds, he forced his hands to push in between their chests, starting to pluck away at buttons.

Thankfully this did not displease his partner, instead receiving a quick nip to his collarbone. Yet it was light, as it would need to make no mark. Even in this state, there were still rules.

No biting where it can be seen outside of a suit. No scratching Rick. There was to be as little bruising as possible. And after all of that, they only had a very limited amount of time.

As if only just remembering the last rule, Daryl had forced himself to shift his hands from beneath the layers of clothing, having been touching as much bare flesh as he could reach, before aiding Rick in the desperate effort of removing the vest and then the button-up beneath. There was a series of grunts and hisses, followed by swearing by both parties, but the last layers were peeled away from between their bodies.

Large hands once again pressed against Rick's chest, running his fingers through the fine hair over chiseled pecs. Rick couldn't help but let out a shiver, biting onto his lower lip to keep from voicing out his pleasure. They unfortunately didn't have much time for foreplay, and even little touches sent their nerves ablazed.

"God damn it, Grimes," was the hiss coming from the larger body, still standing beside the bed that Rick soon sank into. Even with what little light was within the room, Rick could still see the hungry eyes and the sillhouette of broad shoulders. He was already completely bare to Rick, and half erect. He had come to understand that it took very little to arouse his partner.

His throat went dry as soon as Daryl knelt down beside the bed, and he could feel the hands groping at the fly. There was the distinct sound of the zipper being hastily pulled down, and the button undone. The hands shifted, fingers in the belt loops and made quick work of pulling down his pants.

Daryl already knew that Rick had no care for underwear. It was simply constricting and unnecessary. It also came in handy with situations such as this.

While he would have wished to simply relax and let Daryl ease days of tension and anxiety, the last thing he wanted was to simply use Daryl. One hand twisted fingers into the thick blankets, while the other helped boost him up to a sitting position.

He was greeted with quite the wonderous sight. Daryl had settled on his knees, legs spread and his erection begging for a little attention. It would be dealt with later, though, as Daryl was focusing completely onto Rick and his already hardening length.

Daryl's wide blue eyes were hungry, to the point of near worship as his mouth hung open. The eyes flicked up to Rick's face, catching him looking down upon him and smirked. Mischieviousness crossed his face, and Rick already knew that he was about to receive a show.

With soft kitten licks, Daryl licked across his already leaking head, sending little shivers up Rick's back as he watched the precome being lapped up. The stormy blue eyes never left his, watching every twitch of pleasure, arousal, and heat. Rick already knew that Daryl did not waste time, and that became more obvious when he reached up and grasped onto his thigh.

The fingers tightened, nails digging little cresants into his flesh that Rick hoped would leave some sort of mark to treasure. Then came the rumbling growl and the glint in Daryl's eyes, and the predator lunged.

He took several inches of Rick in one swallow, and the moan Rick let out may have alerted the security in the hallway. Immediately, he pressed his hand against his lips, muffling the moan, and Daryl had drawn back. "Fuck," Daryl hissed softly, licking over his lips. The heat in his eyes had only grown, and his voice dropped into a low rumble. "You're gonna get us in trouble."

Rick's mouth dropped open, but Daryl stole the words with a sudden heated kiss. Not that he would complain. "I got something to shut you up," Daryl rasped in between puffs of air as he leaned up. His large hands grabbed onto Rick's shoulder and waist, pushing against him until Rick fell back into the mattress again. The heavier weight of his protector followed down, pinning him.

"You're wasting time, Rick," Daryl growled, sharp eyes narrowed down at the flustered smaller man. "Any fuckin' moment now, I'm gonna get a call." He leaned his face back down, crushing their lips together. He reached up and grabbed a hold of Rick's strong jaw, tugging, and Rick did not hesitate to open for him. At the same moment, he felt Daryl's calloused fingers run down his side, then grabbed a brutal hold on his erection.

Daryl muffled out his loud moan with his devilish tongue and lips, though he could practically feel his smirk when Rick couldn't help but buck his hips up. Their hips glided together, even when it was disorganized in the rushed motions, and he rewarded his partner with a long, slow stroke.

"There ya' go, lemme take care of you," Daryl rasped into his ear before he connected their lips again. The larger man pushed his thigh up between Rick's legs, only to shudder as Rick immediately rutted up against him. His groan rumbled deep, then turned into a growl. He had the leader of the country pinned beneath him, desperately searching for a release, and _he_  was the only one able to deliver it.

Rick forced his head back and broke their kiss, letting out a hollow moan as Daryl's hand began stroking up and down. It was followed by pants, half-coherant pleads that Daryl couldn't even attempt to ignore. Allowing Rick's lips freedom, at least until he started to get a touch too loud, Daryl focused his attention down Rick's body. The way his blush spread down to his chest, the faint sweat already beading up and leaving a soft sheen in the low light... His gaze traveled down Rick's heaving chest, then found his shoulder.

The scar was still there, still ragged. It always would be. Even after years since the incident that started this whole path to his leadership, it still was rough.

He shifted his hand and let his fingers run across the edges of the scar, where the bullet had entered him. Then there were the surgical scars of finding each of the pieces that had exploded the moment the bullet sank into his flesh. The scars were raised and caught against his thumb. Scars. They were both full of them.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue across the scar, knowing that it was sensitive to Rick. The moan that echoed in his ear told him not to stop, and the fingers knotting into his long hair told him to go further. Huffing out a chuckle at Rick's eagerness, Daryl relented. Opening his mouth, he bit at the scarred flesh and gave it a sharp tug.

He felt the response immediately within his grasp, Rick's erection swelling and growing rock hard. He knew Rick was a slut for biting. As long as it was out of view. Rick's groan was strained through his teeth, his body turning more rigid beneath Daryl. "Don't hold back on me," Daryl rasped, his fingers tracing up Rick's throbbing arousal, following the veins he knew by heart. The fingers tugged harder onto his hair, trying to yank his head back.

Of course. Just because he couldn't mark up Rick didn't mean that Rick had to keep his hands, or rather _mouth_  to himself.

"God, you kinky whore," Daryl rumbled, the smirk widening on his face. The sharpness that came to Rick's eyes made his lungs squeeze tight, and he had to swallow. Another sharp tug, this time nearly pulling strands out. Letting out a soft hiss of pain, he leaned his head back, only for teeth to latch onto his throat.

They bit down hard, Rick letting out a beastly growl as his other hand wrapped around the back of Daryl's neck, giving a firm squeeze. His other fingers locked deeper into his thick hair, yanking and pulling and exposing his throat. What had started as a hiss of pain turned into a low moan from Daryl, unable to hide the primal thrill that Rick gave him every time he did his.

And like hell would he stifle himself back at this rare opportunity.

Rick still came before he did. Always did. The man shuddered beneath Daryl, clawing his hands to the point that his knuckles went white as the orgasm came over him. As the white fluid painted against both of their bodies, Rick couldn't stop his desperate rutting against his thigh. It was feeling the hot, sticky fluid against him that pushed Daryl off of his own edge.

It was a high he rarely experienced, uninterrupted, all while Rick still clutched against him. He squeezed his eyes shut as the sensation washed over him, like his entire body had been electricuted and now left trembling and sapping away his strength.

By the time he came back to himself, Rick had released his throat, and instead let his fingers run through his hair, pressing kisses against the developing bruise on his throat and kissing up to his jaw. He pulled back to look up at Daryl, that goofy lopsided grin on his face again. It made Daryl give a faint smile back, even when he felt ridiculous. Must be the afterglow.

"That should hold us out," Rick chuckled, adjusting himself on the bed and pulling Daryl down against his naked body. There was still a pant in his breath, but Rick covered it up as best as he could with another kiss.

Humming softly, Daryl smirked into the kiss. "Next time, I'll try to get us enough time for some -real- fuckin'." The blush that crossed Rick's face made him look years younger, flushing like an embarrassed teenager. He tried hiding his expression against Daryl's shoulder, pressing kisses to whatever flesh he could reach.

"Pencil me down for that appointment," Rick huffed, running his fingers down Daryl's back in long strokes, then pressed his open palm aganst his back. His fingers fell into the grooves of the scars, but he had long memorized their patterns.

"Lay down with me," Rick continued, loosening his hold so that Daryl could move again. "You haven't had a call yet. It's a quiet night. Maybe you'll get a good nights sleep for once."

With his words, Rick shifted his hand from Daryl's hair to craddle his cheek, pulling his face to meet his own eyes again. His eyes softened as they stared into Daryl's, but there was worry. Always was worry. Worry to if Daryl would strain himself trying to protect him, wear himself thin, lose his focus...

Every fiber of his body pleaded with Daryl to stay, to stay within the warm embrace of his lover, where no boundaries lied between them. But his heart sank all the same. His duties came first, unfortunately. All to make sure that his charge would remain safe. Rick could see that, as his smile was fading. "...You don't need to leave," he tried, but his hand was already slipping down from his face. They ran across the scar that grazed his temple, then he dropped it back down to his side.

"Ya' know I do," Daryl muttered, leaning forward and pressing a long kiss to Rick's own lips. "Get some sleep. I'll figure it out."

Rick was silent at this point, just looking up at Daryl with a partially wounded expression. But if he had stopped every time that Rick gave him that look... Hell, they wouldn't be here today. "I'm sorry," Daryl added, but was slowly sliding his way out of Rick's grasp, a grasp that didn't attempt to pull him back in.

Standing back up straight, Daryl took a moment to stare down at Rick's nude body. The come still was wet against his stomach, legs still spread and exposing himself entirely to Daryl. But... he couldn't.

Tearing his gaze away, he scooped up his clothing and walked to the connecting bathroom across the expansive room. After a quick cleanup, he emerged fully dressed, already attaching the earpiece to listen to the soft hum of chatter.

"Did you want anything before-" Daryl started, only to stop at the doorway. Rick had already curled up into the bed, covering himself and his back turned towards the rest of the room. The silent treatment. Letting out a long sigh, he just shook his head.

Back to work.

"...Good night, sir," were the quiet words that echoed in the dark room before being followed by the door to the bedroom opening, hesitating, then closing behind him.


End file.
